Just Labels
by Rainey13
Summary: An undercover assignment leaves Jones feeling a little confused. Fortunately, Neal is willing to help him understand.  WARNING: M/M action - don't like, don't read! Otherwise, R&R :-


_Go to sleep. Right, just go to sleep .It'll be all right when you wake up. Maybe it was even just a dream. Yeah, a dream. So go to sleep._

_Maybe if he rolled to his other side…_

_Jones sighed and opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Enough light came in through the window so that he could see the light fixture. But not enough so that he could count cracks and try to put himself to sleep that way._

_Did that ever really work anyway?_

_Maybe it was futile for him to even be trying to get to sleep. Things had happened earlier that day… things he was trying to ignore… but things he probably needed to acknowledge, and try to work out in his mind._

_It should have been such an easy thing. They were tracking an embezzler, trying to get evidence to take them to the next level. Neal was set to go undercover, with Diana – until the location for the meet got changed to a high-end bathhouse. As in gay bathhouse, which meant Diana was out and he was in._

_No problem, right? Walk in on Neal's arm, have a few drinks, talk to some people. Maybe they'd have to cuddle a little, but he could handle that. _

_Except their main target was in a kinky mood – and a suspicious one. And it turned out he had brought some muscle with him. So they wound up in a private bathing room, expected to get naked…_

_Neal, of course, seemed nonplussed. Of course, Jones wasn't sure what a __plussed__ Neal would look like; the con man simply adapted. Neal's clothes disappeared, seemingly in a heartbeat, while Jones was still working the buttons of his shirt. No clothes meant no hidden backup gun, no badge, no recorder… But then Neal had been there, naked, pressing close to him – helping hide the gun and the badge while Jones undressed. And while Neal playfully slapped at his ass with a towel, the con man had deftly used the action to cover while he slipped the pen with the microphone under another towel._

_They had all gotten into the water – except for the muscle, two large men who stood on the side of the pool, arms crossed, pulling their shirts tight over very definite gun outlines._

_Jones had never felt so naked in his life, and it had little to do with the physical lack of clothes._

_Spurred on by sufficient alcohol, their mark was talkative, when he wasn't busy sucking his lover's tongue. Neal had covered well, driving the conversation toward names and details. Jones had played along as best he could with an occasional remark, and by trying to relax into the kisses Neal plied him with when their mark was similarly occupied. It wasn't so bad, really – in fact, he had to admit, Neal was a good kisser…_

_If it had only stopped at kissing._

_But the mark wanted more, and in the private room, with the guards with guns, there hadn't been much choice. And so their act as lovers had to become real._

_In a quickly whispered exchange, Neal had offered to be on the bottom. But Jones knew he had absolutely no chance of successfully playing the instigator. Well, he knew what had to go where between two men, but as to how…_

_And so he found himself submitting to Neal's ministrations, reminding himself all the while to breathe, and this was just another undercover mission, and surely they wouldn't have to…_

_Neal was gentle, and as much as he could he explained what he was doing in quick whispers hidden by kisses. The lubricant, the fingers, the condom – Jones thought he deserved a medal for not screaming and running when Neal's finger first pushed into him. Then it was two fingers, and three, and oh surely there must be a way to stop…_

_But the mark was watching carefully, and Jones vaguely heard a few words like maybe they were cops. Neal had laughed, seemingly without a care in the world, and Jones had wished, for that moment, that he could be like Caffrey. Neal had said something about just being fellow bankers, out for a good time and a profit, and then…_

_Oh god, Neal was pressing into him! Jones pressed his face against his arm, trying to hide the panic. Again, Neal was gentle, and slow, but it hurt, the pressure in his ass was too much and… _

_And somehow it also felt good, and that left Jones more confused than ever._

_A phone call finally pulled the mark away, and he left with a grin and a parting shot that they should keep the private room as long as they wanted, on him. Neal had pulled out as soon as they were alone. They dressed without speaking, without even looking at each other._

_Peter and Diana had been waiting in the surveillance van when they got back, and Jones was waiting for the indication that they knew what had happened. But there was none. The other agents focused on the names and other details the mark had mentioned. Peter expressed dismay that the recording had cut off part-way through, but he seemed to accept Neal's explanation that there was a lot of humidity in the bathhouse, and it must have affected the recorder._

_Jones stole a glance in Neal's direction and was met with a sly smile as Neal mimed clicking a pen; somehow the con man had managed to turn the recorder off before the agent was compromised._

_They had enough to move on to the next level, and the mark in the bathhouse was written off as small potatoes, not worth the time to pursue. It was over…_

_Except Jones couldn't sleep, and with sudden clarity he knew what he needed to do._

* * *

Neal poured another glass of wine and padded back toward his bed. He paused in front of the open balcony doors, appreciating the cool breeze on his bare chest, and then finished his journey. Careful not to spill a drop of wine he climbed onto the mattress and settled back against the pillows. He had some music on low, a nice classical selection. It went well with the magazine he was reading about classical art. Specifically, there was an exhibition coming to a small museum on the outskirts of the city, and he was trying to decide the best approach to get Peter to let him go outside his radius. It would be for research purposes, not because he had any designs on the art…

The sudden knock at his door interrupted his thoughts and he took a quick look at the alarm clock as he got out of bed. It was nearly midnight, rather late for visitors. Then again, with his varied past, nothing was really that unusual.

He briefly considered throwing on a robe over the pajama bottoms he was wearing, but decided against it. Anyone showing up in the middle of the night got him as he was.

Possibilities about who might be knocking flitted through his mind as he opened the door…

"Jones?"

That was definitely not one of the first names that had come to mind, Neal decided, as he stepped back to let the agent in the door. Then again, studying the confused look on the other man's face, maybe it wasn't really so surprising he was there.

"Uh, did I wake you?" Jones asked. Then, as if just noticing Neal's half-dressed state, he amended that. "Are you alone? I shouldn't…"

"No, you didn't wake me," Neal answered, closing the door. "I was reading. Quite alone."

"Oh, okay," Jones stammered. "I'm not really sure… I mean, I should probably go…"

"Hey, you're here. Do you want a drink?" Neal gestured toward his wine selection. "Wine? Or I have a really nice single malt."

"Yeah, maybe a scotch would be good."

Neal retrieved the bottle and a couple of glasses and brought them to the table He sat down, poured two shots and pushed one toward Jones. "Have a seat."

Jones sat down, running a hand over his cropped hair. "I'm not really sure why I came," he started, picking up the glass. He rolled it around in his hand, watching the waves of amber liquid.

Neal sipped his scotch, studying the other man. He figured he had a pretty good idea why the agent had come. The trick would be to get Jones to admit it, and talk about it. "Are we all right, you and me? As much as we've ever been anyway," Neal asked, trying to keep his tone light, not pressing.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure." Jones looked anything but sure as he took a sip of the liquor.

"I hope I didn't hurt you."

"No, you didn't," Jones said quickly. "I mean, yeah, it hurt, but you didn't _hurt_ me, if that makes any sense."

Neal nodded. "It does. I've been on the bottom before."

"I know you offered to… I mean that I…" Jones took a deep breath and tried again. "I wouldn't have known what to do."

"You did fine," Neal offered, no trace of the con man in his voice. "The others had no idea you'd never been with a man."

"I was afraid I'd give it away, ruin the whole thing."

"No, you didn't. For not really knowing what was coming, you did really well."

"I never saw you turn off the recorder. But thanks for that."

Neal shrugged. "Wilkins had said all he was going to say about the case. He was… otherwise occupied."

"Still, I appreciate it. I thought I was going to have to answer questions…"

"No reason anyone else ever has to know."

Jones was silent for a moment, studying his glass. "Can I ask you something?"

Neal smiled. "As long as it doesn't involve expecting me to admit to crimes."

Jones shook his head. "Nah. It's… personal." He fidgeted, took another sip of liquor, and sighed. "I guess I don't even know how to say it."

Neal leaned back in his chair. "Just ask."

"When you were… in me," Jones started, staring at his feet. "Like I said, it hurt. But it also, I don't know… there was something else…"

"It felt good too?" Neal suggested.

Jones just nodded.

Neal sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "There has to be something to make being on the bottom worthwhile, right?"

"So, you said you've… that you…"

"Been with men? Yeah."

"In prison?"

"In prison, and out." Jones looked puzzled, so Neal continued. "Voluntarily, and not so voluntarily. I find that when I'm with men I'm a natural top, but being on the bottom has its rewards as well. At least, with the right partner."

Jones just stared at him, puzzled. "But what about Kate? And the way you're always flirting with women? I mean, I've seen you hit on women, like at O'Brien's. And you don't leave alone. Why would you... if you're gay…"

"Gay, straight. Those are just labels."

"Labels?"

Neal nodded. "You have to understand that there's a difference between love and pleasure. Gay and straight have to do with love, and how you choose who to have forever and a picket fence and a dog with. But pleasure? That can be with anyone."

"That's quite a concept for a Methodist boy. Somewhat lapsed, maybe, but still."

Neal shrugged. "Suppose you had your eyes shut and someone was sucking your dick. How would you know if it was a woman or me?"

"You have a five o'clock shadow."

"Touché," Neal replied, rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. "But let's assume I don't use my chin. How would you know?"

"I probably wouldn't," Jones admitted. "But I guess that's a difference in your world and mine. You have women waiting in line to be with you. In my world, I have to work to get a date, and a second date, and maybe down the line there'll be sex – maybe. I don't have people standing in line to suck me."

"Different worlds," Neal said softly. "You know who and what you are, Jones. Me, I've always had to be someone, and something different. I adapt."

"So, men or women…"

"I don't know, maybe people like me are never supposed to have the forever thing," Neal admitted, staring at his drink. "If I did, it would be with a woman. So I guess you'd label me straight on that point. But until, or unless, that happens, I can give, and get, pleasure with anyone I'm with."

"Man or woman," Jones said slowly, as if trying to make sense of it. "And you can just switch back and forth?"

"Man, woman, top, bottom." Neal shrugged. "Until you do the forever thing, it's all good."

"I don't know." Jones shook his head and took another drink. "I wish I could be like that, I guess."

"People have too many rules in their lives."

"Some rules are good."

Neal shrugged noncommittally. "Sometimes you need to make your own rules." He took another sip of his drink and asked the question that stood between them. "Why did you really come here tonight?"

Jones shifted nervously. "I don't know. I couldn't sleep, and I just needed… needed to know…"

Neal set his glass down, stood up, and walked over to stand in front of Jones. "Needed to know why a straight man reacted to sex with another man?"

Jones looked scared, but he nodded.

Neal straddled Jones' legs and lowered himself onto the agent's lap. "Pleasure with anyone," he said. "Do you want me to show you?" Jones nodded, but Neal shook his head. "I need to hear you say it."

"Yeah, show me," Jones whispered.

Neal pressed closer, his groin grinding against the other man's, eliciting a sharply drawn breath from Jones. He leaned closer, next to Jones's ear. "Did you like the kissing?"

"I liked it."

Neal smiled. "Good, I like to kiss." His lips moved across Jones' cheek, onto his lips, pausing only for the briefest moment when Jones' tongue invaded his mouth, much stronger than he had anticipated. But then he relaxed into the kiss, offering all the passion he could put into it – which was considerable, even if he did say so himself.

They didn't move for a few minutes, except to reposition lips. But finally they had to come up for air.

Neal took a moment to catch his breath and then got to his feet, holding out his hand. "I'm not interested in forever with you, Jones, and I don't want a picket fence or a dog with you. But I can give and get pleasure with you tonight, if you want."

Jones hesitated just a moment, then reached out his hand.

* * *

Later, Jones couldn't remember walking to the bed. He didn't know how his clothes disappeared on the way either. But by the time he got across the room his jacket and shirt were gone, his shoes had been kicked off somewhere, and his pants were down around his ankles. He was aware of Neal's body pressing close, the other man's thumbs hooking in the waistband of his briefs, the gentle tug that pulled them down, exposing him. He fell back onto the bed and watched in fascination as Neal knelt down and pulled his pants, underwear, and socks off, tossing the clothing to one side.

Then Neal was standing in front of him, the soft light making his skin appear to shine. He swallowed hard as Neal hooked the waistband of his pajamas, teased them slowly down to his hips, and then dropped them to the floor, kicking them away.

The hidden parts of Neal Caffrey were as gorgeous as the parts everyone could see. His toned abs led to sculpted stomach muscles, and a dark triangle of hair – which happened to house an erect cock that looked as though it had been sculpted too, like one of Neal's clay statues. He watched the muscles ripple as the other man reached into a bedside drawer and pulled out a selection of condoms and lubricant, laying them on top.

He didn't have long to think about it as Neal's shadow loomed over him. Jones held his breath as Neal climbed onto the bed and lowered himself on top. In a moment they were sliding together, the feel of skin on skin enough to make Jones gasp.

"First lesson," Neal whispered as he nibbled Jones' ear and neck. "This is called frottage." He pressed harder, and Jones thought for a moment that their groins were going to merge. But it felt too good to protest in any way. They continued for several minutes, with Neal always seeming to know just when to press harder, and when to pull back, to keep Jones on the edge.

Finally, though, Neal did pull away, and Jones got a good glimpse of his exquisite erection before Neal's hands were on his hips, rolling him onto his stomach. For the briefest moment something akin to panic touched him, but he forced it back. He had come here to learn, and he was in the hands of a very capable teacher.

Neal was adjusting his body, pulling him up onto his knees, putting pillows under his chest for support. "Here's the thing," Neal whispered, his voice low, his breath soft against Jones' neck. "The muscle here is designed to keep things in, not _let_ something in."

Then Neal's lips traced their way down his back, over his hip, across the right cheek of his ass, and…

"Lesson two," Neal said, and Jones could hear the smile in his voice even as he squirmed. "Rimming. Mouth to ass, and quite pleasurable." He paused, kissing rings around Jones' hole. "We'll take a shower later, and I'll show you more."

Jones could only nod. He was grateful for the pillows propping him up, because his knees were feeling weak, and he wasn't sure they'd support him.

He felt, rather than saw, as Neal reached across him for the lubricant on the bedside table. He felt Neal's finger in his crack, the coolness of the lube against his skin. And then…

"Ahhhhhhh." The sigh escaped before he could even think about it, part surprise and part pleasure as Neal's finger slid into him.

"I tried to explain at the bathhouse," Neal was saying. "Since your hole isn't built to let things in, it's best to loosen it up a little." He paused as Jones wiggled under his ministrations. "One finger just to get things started," he continued, "then two…"

Even though he'd been expecting it, Jones still stiffened as the second finger made its way into him. They'd already done this, of course, at the bathhouse, but he'd been so scared, so off his game there that he'd only registered the penetration, not the skill with which it was being done.

"Take a deep breath," Neal recommended. "Hold it, then let it out slowly."

Jones did as he was told, and it seemed to help. The sensation of pain faded a bit, replaced by a feeling of fullness, and pressure that was both uncomfortable and intriguing at the same time.

"Third finger," Neal whispered. "This might hurt a little, but it'll be better soon."

Jones felt more lube on and in his ass, and then the third finger going in. And damn, it did hurt, and yet he had to admit there was part of him that was enjoying this.

"Do you want to stop?"

Jones couldn't make his voice work, but he shook his head emphatically.

"I have no desire to hurt you," Neal whispered, working his fingers in and out, back and forth. "If you want to stop, at any point, you just have to tell me."

"Don't stop." The words came out raspy, in a voice Jones didn't even recognize, but he knew it was his.

They continued like that for a few minutes, Neal working his fingers, Jones trying to process the new experience and sensations. Then he felt Neal reach over him again, heard paper ripping, and out of the corner of his eye he saw an empty condom wrapper flutter to the floor.

For the briefest moment he thought maybe this was the time to panic, to tell Neal he'd had enough. But they'd already gone beyond this earlier, when he hadn't had the time or the realization to question, or to allow himself to really experience what was happening. He knew without questioning that Neal would stop if asked to do so – but he also knew he wouldn't make any such request.

He had to know…

Neal's fingers disappeared, and for a moment he felt surprisingly empty. But then there was pressure at his hole again, and he knew this time it was Neal's cock. His own cock twitched at the thought…

"I know it's easier to say this than to do it," Neal was saying, his hands rubbing Jones' shoulders, down his back, to his hips. "But the more you can relax, the easier the entry will be."

Jones, nodded, shook his head, nodded again… how the hell was he supposed to relax with Neal's cock ready to penetrate him? This was wrong… why was he here…

He took a deep breath and pressed his chest into the pillows, letting his ass ride up a little higher and spreading his thighs as much as he could. He waited…

And then Neal's cock was there, pressing into him. It hurt… hurt more than the fingers had… He tried the deep breath again, even as he felt Neal lean over his back. "Relax," came the whisper in his ear. "I'll wait." And he realized Neal had stopped, and was waiting.

Jones did the deep breathing a few more times, and then, experimentally, he moved his hips just a little. The tightness and pressure didn't go away, but the feelings shifted. And then he realized he hadn't even considered pain as he did that. He settled in again, nodding. A moment later he felt Neal push again, penetrating deeper. The pushing seemed to continue for a long time, as if it would never end, and he had the funny thought that Neal's cock had been good sized, but not endless. But finally Neal stopped, and when Jones shifted just a little, he could feel Neal's balls against his ass. And that realization made Jones shiver, and he felt his cock twitching again.

"All right?"

Jones could only nod, and then he felt Neal slowly pulling back, back… and then pushing in again.

"You might need to shift your hips a little," Neal said as Jones gasped at the movement. "Find the best angle for you."

Jones tried that, even as Neal continued his slow thrusts. And after a couple of positions he gasped in surprise – and pleasure – as Neal's cock hit him just _there._

After that, Neal picked up the pace, and before he could even think about it, Jones found himself matching the rhythm. As Neal thrust forward, Jones pushed back, helping them to meet as deeply as possible. And it felt so right, so natural…

All concepts of time left him, and he had no idea how long they actually stayed like that, with Neal plunging into him, over and over. But finally he felt the other man's breath quicken, his body stiffen slightly, and then Neal's cock was quivering inside of him as he came.

Just the thought of Neal's climax was enough to push Jones over the edge, and he gave into the feeling before his knees gave out and he collapsed onto the pillows.

* * *

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way. When he could think again, he realized Neal was still in him, slowly moving in and out, just a little.

He sighed, breaking the silence, and Neal pulled out slowly, rolling off to the side and onto his back

Jones watched, fascinated, as Neal rolled the condom off and dropped it into a waste basket by the bed. He'd done the same thing himself from time to time, but it seemed so different to watch another man perform the action.

Neal caught him watching and grinned. "Come on," he said, rolling to the side of his bed and holding out his hand.

Jones had no idea what he was getting into – but then again, look where he'd already been this night. He took Neal's hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. His ass hurt, and his knees felt weak, but he managed to stand.

Neal led the way into the bathroom and to the shower. Jones leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath, and gather his thoughts, as he watched the other man start the water and test it until it was just right.

Then Neal held out his hand again, Jones took it, and they stepped under the spray.

Neal pressed against him and Jones responded without even thinking. He opened his lips, welcoming the kiss they shared. And he ran his hands over Neal's shoulders, down his back, onto his ass. He was aware of Neal reaching behind him for something, and then he felt Neal's hands on him, covered in soap, working up a lather between them.

Jones found his knees were shaking, and he leaned back against the shower wall for support. But that only lasted a moment before Neal spun him around. Jones reached for the wall with his hands, bracing himself, as Neal's soapy hands worked their magic on his body. And then he was aware of Neal dropping to his knees, a hand rubbing the crack of his ass. Then…

He gasped as Neal, true to his word, demonstrated rimming. Neal's lips were on his ass, kissing around his tender hole. There were gentle nips as the other man used his teeth in the most sensitive areas. And then his tongue was pressing against Jones' hole…

Jones knew he would have fallen over if not for Neal's hands on his back, holding him against the wall.

He felt Neal pull away, and he took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm himself. Surely that must be the sign that they were done…

Neal turned off the water and picked up a towel. He turned and slowly rubbed the soft terrycloth over Jones' body. For his part, Jones just stood there, on still-shaky legs, as the towel worked over his shoulders, back, chest, ass, legs…

It was when Neal turned his attention to drying his genitals that Jones jerked upright. He was reacting to the touch, hardening again.

Neal leaned into him, smiling, kissing him. "Ready to try being on top?"

"You said you were the top." Jones could feel his lips moving, but the voice didn't sound like his.

"I said I was a _natural_ top," Caffrey clarified. "And that I could enjoy being on the bottom too."

Neal reached for his hand, and Jones let himself be led back to the bed. He watched, numb, as the other man lay down on his back, pulling pillows under his hips to raise them a bit, and then held out his hand. Jones took it and then, without really knowing how, he found himself kneeling on the bed between Neal's legs.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. "I don't know what to do." He busied himself studying the blinking light on Neal's tracker.

Neal's voice was soft and calm. "To start out, I think it's easier from the back, like we just did. But I like it like this, so I can watch." He shifted his hips and spread his legs a little wider. "Move in closer."

Jones did as he was told, sliding closer until he could feel the heat from Caffrey's body radiating against his. Neal's legs came up and instinctively Jones lowered his shoulders to support them. And then he felt something being pressed into his hand, and looked down to find the tube of lubricant.

"Put some on your fingers."

His hands were trembling as he complied, but Jones managed to coat his fingers.

"Now I have done this, but it's been a while," Neal was saying. "So just like I did with you. One finger to start."

_One finger._ At least the target was pretty obvious, Jones thought, as he pressed his forefinger against Neal's tightly puckered hole. There was more resistance than he expected – more than he thought he'd noticed being on the other end; then again, the whole experience had been pretty surreal. When Neal's hips pushed toward him he took a deep breath and gave a push, watching as his finger disappeared inside.

Neal rotated his hips slightly, pressing against Jones' hand. "Like I did," he whispered. "Move it in and out a little."

Jones complied, trying to take in the tight grip of Neal's ass on his finger. He worked it in and out, in and out.

"Second finger."

Jones complied without real conscious thought. He squirted a little more lubricant onto his middle finger, pulled the first finger out, and then moved back in with two fingers. He was getting a little bolder, finding his own rhythm, twisting a little as he worked in and out – and enjoying it as Neal gasped, and twisted a little himself.

He added the third finger without being told.

Neal's body arched up to meet his hand and Jones smiled as he used his free hand to reach out and stroke the other man's hardening cock. Caffrey's moan of pleasure made him smile even more.

"Okay, I'm good."

Jones found he was actually shaking as he pulled his fingers out. His own cock was hard, twitching, and he leaned forward – only to be stopped by Neal's hand.

"Condom," Neal whispered, holding out a package.

Jones tore it open, his fingers rolling the sheath over his cock without any thought on his part. This time when he pressed forward there was no resistance. He guided the tip of his cock to the waiting hole. _And oh geez, he was about to fuck another man…_

Neal pushed his hips forward, and Jones watched as the tip of his cock disappeared inside. That was enough to shake away any lingering doubts and he pushed. Neal let out a small gasp, but he raised his hips and opened his thighs wider, and Jones took that as his cue to keep going. He pressed harder, until he was fully inside, and his balls were hitting against Caffrey's buttocks.

Just looking at that, at his full length buried in Neal's ass, was almost enough to make him come right then and there. But then Neal moved his hips, pulling back a little and then pushing up again. And Jones responded, starting a series of slow thrusts. Neal met each one, and Jones increased his speed, aware only of the erotic sight of his cock sliding in and out, the exhilarating feeling of the tight hole around him.

He had no concept of time, and no idea if it had been a minute or an hour when he stiffened, made a final hard thrust, and then felt his cock jerking as he came. All he knew was that the release felt so very good…

And then his knees gave out and he fell forward. His now flaccid cock popped out, and he felt Neal's hands on his shoulders, helping him down onto the bed. For a long moment he just lay there with his eyes shut tight, then he gradually opened them. Neal had one arm around his shoulders, holding him. His other hand was working his own cock, seeking the release he'd just given Jones.

Part of his mind urged Jones to reach out and help. But he found he couldn't move, could only watch as Neal's hand moved faster and faster. And then, with barely a gasp, the other man stiffened, and Jones watched in fascination as Neal reached his orgasm, his cock spraying out its cum onto his chest.

Finally able to move, Jones slowly reached over and laid his hand on top of Neal's. And then, his head buried on Neal's shoulder, he closed his eyes.

* * *

He was alone in the bed when he woke, and for a moment he was confused. It definitely wasn't _his_ bed…

_Oh, yeah._ He was at Neal's. And the shower was running…

He slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Geez, not more than a few hours earlier the idea of sex with another man would have seemed alien, and now he had fucked and been fucked.

And liked it.

And was, in fact, walking naked into another man's bathroom, fully expecting to find said other man equally as naked in the shower.

The door to the walk-in shower was steamed up a bit from the hot water, but there was no missing the shadow moving inside. In fact, Jones could hear Caffrey humming softly above the running water.

This was _so_ unlike anything he'd ever done, but he reached out and opened the door. He paused, wondering if he'd be welcome…

The smile on Neal's face when he turned around settled that question.

Neal extended a hand, Jones took it, and stepped into the shower. The hot water enveloped him even as Neal pulled him close and they kissed.

_How did kissing Neal already seem so natural?_

"Sleep well?"

Jones chuckled, the action teasing the inside of his throat even as Neal kissed his neck. "Oh, yeah." He was exhausted, sore in places he'd never been sore in before… and loving every minute of this night.

Neal's lips moved down across his chest even as Jones felt the other man's hand on his cock, cupping them gently together. _And damn if he wasn't starting to get hard again…_

Neal repeated his pattern from earlier, soaping them up, making simple lather more erotic than Jones had ever imagined. And then he watched in wonder as Neal sank slowly to his knees again. But this time his target wasn't Jones' ass.

_His cock disappeared into Neal's mouth and damn! His knees shook, and he might have fallen over if his hands hadn't found Neal's shoulders for support._

He watched in fascination as Neal worked his magic. Well, they'd always known Caffrey could make magic happen with his mouth, but this gave that idea a whole new meaning. It wasn't long before he was gasping, his hips jerking, and he gasped…

At what seemed like the very last moment, Neal pulled his mouth away and finished the job with two quick strokes with his hand. Jones found himself watching, as if from a great distance, as he shot his cum onto Neal's chest.

The water was already washing the cum away as Jones dropped to his knees, falling into Neal's arms. They stayed like that for a few minutes, holding each other under the water, until Neal's growing erection between them got Jones' attention.

He pushed back slightly, licking his lips nervously. "I don't know if I can…"

"You don't have to," Neal whispered, working his hand down to stroke his cock.

Jones watched for a moment, enthralled by the sight of Neal stroking himself. Then he reached in, replacing Neal's hand with his own, running long strokes up and down the length of the other man's shaft. Every few strokes he stopped to brush his fingers over the increasingly sensitive tip. This, at least, he understood, and he tried to treat Neal's cock as he would his own. He picked up the pace, pressing his lips against Neal's neck.

He felt Neal work a hand in, pulling on his own balls, and that just made Jones stroke faster. Their bodies bumped together and then, suddenly, he felt Neal's body stiffen, and then his orgasm sprayed both of them.

They collapsed into the corner of the shower, Neal absently milking the last of the cum from his cock. Jones just leaned against his shoulder, his energy expended.

They stayed like that for a while, just letting the water wash over them. Finally though, the water turned cold, and eventually Neal reached up and turned it off. "June has a good water heater," he said with a smile. "But it's not unlimited."

Jones just nodded, no words coming to mind. But after a few more minutes of rest on the floor of the shower, he looked out into the other room – surprised to see the first glow of sunrise through the balcony doors.

"It's morning," he observed, slowly disentangling himself from Neal. His legs felt shaky as he got to his feet, but he managed. He walked unsteadily into the other room and starting looking for his clothes.

Neal pulled his pajama bottoms on and then helped find the various pieces of Jones' clothing. He helped button the other man's shirt when Jones' fingers seemed to be shaking too much.

"Did you find the answers you were looking for?" Neal asked softly as Jones stood by the door.

"Yeah, I think I did."

"I'm glad."

"Did you? I mean, I hope it was all right…"

Neal smiled. "Give and take pleasure with anyone, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." On impulse, he leaned in and kissed Neal, savoring the feeling one more time. "And you know what? I would know now if it was you sucking me."

That got a chuckle in response. "I am good at it," Neal said, and it came out as a simple statement of fact, not bragging.

"I'd like to try it sometime," Jones admitted. "Maybe…"

"Sure. Another time." Neal opened the door and then grinned. "But call next time, all right? I'm not always alone."

"Yeah, I should have thought about that."

Neal leaned in closer. "You know last week, when we went to O'Brien's after work?" Jones nodded, so Neal continued. "Did you see who I left with?"

Jones thought back for a moment and then nodded. "Tall, blonde."

"Swedish flight attendant. Coming back into town Thursday night with a weekend layover."

Jones laughed and shook his head. "Only you, Caffrey."

Neal just shrugged and smiled. "I'll see you at the office."

Jones nodded, stepping out into the hallway. But then he hesitated, and turned back. "Hey, Neal. Something I've been thinking for a while – and not just because of last night." He paused, searching for the right words. "I mean, I don't know how you feel about it and all. But I'd like it if we could be friends, not just colleagues."

Neal's smile widened. "That's a label I can live with."

"Yeah, me too."

Jones turned and headed for the stairs. He heard the door close behind him, and he smiled. _Friend_ was definitely a label he could live with too.


End file.
